About memories
by SubZeroChimera
Summary: Oneshot. Blonde and silver are fighting an epic duel to the death as per usual, but how did a Life ring, a papaomus, and something called manoeuvre twenty-two get them to stop? And how does one truly die...?


No one from the Tipa caravan knew where the two strangers had come from, only that they were having a rather epic go at it.

The men were fierce fighters, appearing in a flash of green light and teal swirls. One, presumably a selkie with his long silver hair, was lashing an extraordinarily lengthy sword at the other, a shorter clavat with spiky blonde locks whose weapon looked strikingly similar to the butcher's knife in Jack Moschet's manor, and just as large. Drops of sweat and blood splattered over the landscape as the two fell through the air and landed in a grove of trees, the subsequent thrashing of branches revealing the pair to be in fighting form despite the fall. Soon after twin blurs rocketed from the falling timbers and leaves, sparks flying in a cacophony of death as silver and gold warred in the woods nearby the Tipa caravan.

The clavat of their little group couldn't help but give a grumble of admiration for the butcher-like sword, once his jaw had cranked itself back to his face after the little light show in the sky. The lilty on the other hand was hopping mad as per usual. It didn't help that they'd been having a lovely breakfast beforehand, her favourite tea involved. She was the type to have to be elegant constantly, and looked very sophisticated when drinking said beverage, but the drink had ended up all over her inherited-from-her-great-grandmother's-grandmother's-and-so-on family heirloom. If there's one thing you never did, it was spill a lilty's tea. Her outraged shrieks of teaching the men proper manners and posture by shoving her spear up their backsides was a testament to that fact. Even more so was the fact that she'd grabbed her spear and was all but ready to do it, too.

The fight raged on as a furred hand calmly pushed the spear downwards.

"Now now, I doubt such drastic measures will be required." The bronze-armoured yuke of their caravan gave a stiff bow and flourished his arm towards the duel, "If I may be so bold, I do believe their spat shall be ending shortly enough that we may discuss their ungentlemanly behaviour."

"Yeah, you noticed it too, huh?" The last member of the quartet, a girl with more cleavage than clothes, grinned while holding up the one item that had separated the Tipa-born adventurers from them and certain death innumerable times. Their crystal chalice, currently empty of myyrh, glinted innocently in the morning light.

"Noticed what?" questioned their own blonde-haired warrior, the clavat's sword digging into the ground at his feet.

"It would appear that the duo is rather unprepared to venture into miasma. Unless it is hidden from sight, I cannot see a portable crystal on either of them," answered the yuke.

"Ah."

The caravan let the conversation drift into silence. Only the sounds of wind whistling through sickly trees accompanied the symphony of battle echoing over the landscape. A full minute passed before the fight, fierce and brutal, was suddenly broken off by a bout of coughing. Both participants gritted their teeth, staring the other down as if it was the other's fault for making the noise. Then one coughed while the other hacked, and the fight continued, albeit much slower. Concentration wore on the combatant's faces, but not enough to mask the pain or hatred etched deep into the lines of their features. Even when blood leaked from their mouths and their frames shuddered with every inhalation of poisoned air, the duo kept at each other. Then, suddenly, a great spout of blood was ejected from the blonde's mouth, and the silverette stumbled. Both fell to the ground bonelessly. Both lay still.

The lilty managed an impressed whistle. "So, how long was that? Two minutes? Pretty amazing."

"Man, usually you're dead in one. Those two were something else!" The clavat grinned. "Well, what do we do now? If we're gonna use Life on 'em we'd better be quick about it."

The yuke nodded, adjusting one of the seemingly innocuous rings on his right hand, "Very well, hopefully they will act more civil this time around."

"Twenty gil they scrap like sahagins."

"You're on."

True to the selkie's predictions, the pair, upon being revived and blinking confusedly for a moment, had laid eyes upon each other relatively quickly. One shout, one grimace, and enough sparks to make a thunder bomb jealous were quickly being launched into the atmosphere. Armour clanked as the yuke made a hasty and entirely ungainly retreat. Some gil clinked a short while later much to a certain selkie's amusement.

"It would appear they still have hard feelings," coughed the yuke, flustered.

Screwing up his face in consternation, the clavat frowned and scratched at top of his head, "That's for certain. I have no idea why they'd be so angry at each other, but it seems we're going to have to wait it out. What do you guys think, one or two more times and maybe they'll be over it?"

"Three," stated the lilty.

"Is this wise to be betting on such things? You don't have good luck with bets..."

"Just gimme a number."

"Two?"

The other female had remained silent up until this point, her face mirroring her concentration. "I would have to say... if we leave them alone, ah... twelve? Yeah, twelve!"

"Quite a large number, are you sure-?"

"Just watch."

Over the course of their conversation the fight had raged, hard blows and screeching metals decimating the landscape in their wake. It was not as heated as earlier however, and soon enough the pair were back on death's doorstep. Another round of Life, and another confrontation started up. This cycle continued a few more rounds until eventually, upon revival, the silver haired man snarled at the yuke, aiming his weapon at the retreating caravanner's back.

"Enough of your games, wretch, I will end you!"

Masamune slid in between the yuke's wings and armoured back like a stone through water.

"Sephiroth! How dare you!" the blonde launched himself at his foe, the battle ensuing once more. After a moment of stunned silence, the yuke was heartily dragged away. Sword blows reigned down upon the Masamune, courtesy of an enraged blue-eyed hero. He had no idea who the other people were, but there had been no call to murder the one that had helped him! Steel against steel and warrior against weapon, the pair duelled on.

"I must say, that was incredibly rude!"

Suddenly, the fight stopped dead. Both combatants, on the edge of exhaustion, had stopped to stare at the sight before them.

Completely unharmed, the yuke had his arms crossed, an aura of extreme annoyance and frustration rolling off of him in waves. Sephiroth blinked dazedly, startled by the sight, before a horrible, wheezing cough scattered blood onto the grass below and he fell to his knees. Cloud would have more than liked to take advantage of the situation if only he himself were not in similar straits. He held onto consciousness as long as he could, but even his indomitable will could not match the onset of his own end. As such, he collapsed.

"_This _time, we are taking the swords first!" snapped the yuke.

The next time the pair awoke, it was to the sight of a campfire and a strange creature chewing grass thoughtfully. Beady little black eyes transfixed themselves onto spiky yellow strands, and before he knew it one Cloud Strife was fending off the curious nibbles of the big, blue, and oddly cuddly brute of a beast. His indignant sputtering brought the attention of the caravan, who completely wrecked whatever shred of dignity he had left by laughing their faces off at his expense. The only one not laughing was currently glaring at him with all the hatred and intensity of a thousand burning suns. A thousand suns who were, conveniently, unable to burn through a single length of rope binding his hands behind his back. The temperature in the caravan's little clearing dropped a few degrees when the pair's eyes met, the two all but leaping back into the fray with each other. The only thing keeping Cloud back was that he was in a similar position, although at least Sephiroth didn't have some pack animal trying to eat his hair...

"It seems we are at an impasse, Cloud," came the son of Jenova's voice, filled with mockery and thinly veiled rage.

The blonde SOLDIER's answering growl of hatred would have been a lot more intimidating if not for the slobber currently dripping down one of his bangs.

"Oh shut up you two. Seriously, enmity-for-all-eternity thing getting kinda boring, ya know," huffed the selkie. Turning to the blonde, she grimaced, "I know he probably started it, whatever it is," she said, pointing to Sephiroth, "but honestly, the pair of you completely ignoring the miasma to get at one another... bloody idiots, the pair of you!"

"Miasma?"

"Uh, yeah, that stuff that, you know, kinda consists of the _entire sky_!" lectured the short, armoured female, her elegant laces still stained from earlier. "I have no freakin' clue how you guys suddenly appeared in the sky like that, but come on, get a clue!"

"I am afraid I don't know what you mean. Elaborate. Or, better yet, you will release me and tell me where you hid my weapon." Sephiroth calmly commanded.

The clavat and the selkie grinned at each other like cats that had gotten the canary, "Nah, I don't think so. Not until you promise not to attack one another."

Cloud's teeth gritted together, "Never."

Sephiroth, for his part, merely frowned, an almost miniscule gesture that suggested a world of misery to any it was directed at, "Very well. I will find my weapon and force it from you."

With that he left, striding confidently from the camp. Cloud's eyes flitted around his surroundings and lingered on the caravanners, confusion and concern on his features.

The yuke turned to his comrades, "It would appear that he may not be aware of miasma, inconceivable as it is."

"Someone _please_ tell me what is going on...?"

"In due time," nodded the yuke, "first, we must follow that one. If we leave him, he is bound to perish."

"That would be a good thing..." muttered the SOLDIER.

"Hey hey hey, I know he ain't the friendliest guy, but isn't that a bit harsh?" the clavat seemed stunned at such animosity.

"If you knew the kinds of things he's done, then no. Not harsh at all."

The group got to their feet, one or two brushing away dirt as they grabbed their chalice and followed after the son of Jenova. Cloud was compliant most of the way, and after a quick promise to only defend himself (they couldn't make him do much more than promise not to attack outright, that he was adamant about), the group set off. The blonde fighter was giving the chalice some appraising looks as they went. Before long they found their target, the silver haired man all but falling over as he concentrated on moving forwards. The moment that the chalice's barrier encompassed him as well he stopped leaning over, eyes flicking around the scenery and the group. Green eyes alighted maliciously upon the chalice.

"So, that item produces a barrier... you will be giving it to me," he demanded.

"I'm starting to agree with Spiky hair here," muttered the lilty conspiratorially.

The yuke's voice hardened, his metallic armour stiff and uncompromising, "I am afraid we will not be complying with such demands. Stand down or we will be forced to take measures."

"I will not. Perish."

With inhuman speed he lunged, striking the yuke's head hard with his fist. As it sailed through the air the others tensed, ready to spring into action. Much to Sephiroth's shock the voice of the yuke continued to echo from the misplaced head even as the body started casting.

"I request that immediate counter measures be taken!"

The lilty grinned, "Manoeuvre twenty-two?"

"Manoeuvre twenty-two."

"What in the world is-?!" started Cloud, but his answer was given to him before the question was even finished. With a battle cry the war born lady charged, her spear held horizontal. Sephiroth gave a small smirk, obviously scoffing at the efforts of the caravan. He simply prepared to disarm the runt headed his way. His smile promptly turned into confusion as the lilty suddenly aimed the lance into the ground, and before he knew it the diminutive warrior had pole-vaulted herself at his face. He was unprepared for such tactics and thus received the full brunt of the assault. Nonetheless he adjusted marvellously well, managing to throw her off even as his balance was lost and he toppled over.

By then the selkie had already swept in and retrieved the spear, holding it along her own strange weapon. A look of focus was on her face, her eyes sharply glaring at Sephiroth. The moment he leapt to his feet she aimed a flurry of psionic shots at him, forcing him to dodge. He ended up straight in the clavat's sights, the razor sharp edge of the Excalibur narrowly missing his lithe frame. Gritting his teeth, the silver fighter managed a powerful jab that sent the clavat flying, but physical blows were not his speciality. More shots rang from the selkie, defending the felled clavat and forcing Sephiroth the to middle of the group. The yuke, who up until now had gone unnoticed, released a sudden and devastating attack. His target was launched into the air by the explosive uppercut from his magic hammer, but instead of falling to the ground the silverette alighted gracefully upon the barren dirt. A standoff ensued, Cloud placing himself between his hated foe and the other four.

Tense minutes passed, neither side giving way. Finally, however, Sephiroth relaxed, gazing at the barren lands just beyond the edges of the forest they'd left, "Where is this?"

The question seemed the stump the caravan. They looked at each other, scratching the heads. The clavat pulled out a map, frowning.

"Well, it's not on the map, if that's what you're asking. To be kinda honest, no one really knows about this place."

"The Abyss."

All six turned abruptly towards the new voice as a new light shone from the sky. All four caravanners gazed with open awe at the light, soft and silver, as it drifted to the land below. "The Abyss is a place from legend in this world, long forgotten to all but a rare few. Please, be calm strangers, all will be explained."

Both Sephiroth and Cloud, who had tensed with unease at the voice, loosened their postures, but remained wary of this new intrusion.

"The truth you seek, is that your being here... is an accident. The forces of life with which you are both so familiar, the lifestream... the life force of all living things, beginning and end to the cycle of death and rebirth, transcends time. Not a line, but a loop, time has no true beginning or end. Just a cycle of rebirth. A cycle your battle was swept away in. You are not where you are supposed to be."

The duo considered this new information, glancing at each other and their surroundings. Cloud was the first to speak, "This reminds me of the wastes around Midgar... are we in the future?"

"Perhaps. A meteor, long ago, fell not far from here, and carried with it a life that brought death."

"The past, then. Mother..." Sephiroth looked around wildly, "is Mother here?"

Cloud looked startled, but the light continued her soft speech, "Again, perhaps. Or, perhaps not. The creature that stifles this world, that devours the lifeforce of the world and converts it to the air of death, it may be what you are seeking, it may be related, or it may be something else entirely. Is it what we wish for in the future, or what we will remember from long ago? Life, like memory, cycles, and thus is eternal." At this point the light was waving between the pair, glittering dust falling from it and suspending between the two. Cloud gave a startled cry as he beheld his own form, the sparkling lights floating through him delicately as his shape became incorporeal. The other followed his example soon after, albeit more quietly. "Your memories, I see such suffering. And yet, I cannot help. You do not belong here, but there. Your duties are not yet done. Forgive me this trickery. However, if I do not return you soon, your memories will be but a feast for _him_. Who you are, how you live, your life itself, it is tied to your memories, and these must not be lost. Return, so that the cycle of time will not be severed, remember yourselves, and forget all you have seen here."

A bright glow, and the pair were gone.

The four caravanners were uneasy, but the clavat was the first to recover. He stepped forwards, a bit unsure, and asked, "Please, what did you do? Will they be alright? What do you mean, you had to _return_ them?"

The wisp glittered, the impression of a smile recalled from some distant memory. "As I said, they were not of this time, and in time some truths must be forgotten. Just like life, memories must fade. Alas, that is fate. Please, be not worried. Your journey is near its end."

The light flew forwards, disappearing into the distant sky. Remembered was a sad, soft smile, though none had seen it the feeling remained. The caravanners mingled for a short time, but could not refute the logic of the lady with whom they had spoken. Mostly because a few of them really just didn't understand it. Thus they headed back to camp, and continued on as if little had ever happened that morning, the memories of the event already fading into the morning glows.

"It makes sense. Memory is life," the selkie spoke up suddenly, attracting the attention of her comrades. "They say when you die you will always live on in the hearts of others. The memories we hold most closely to them are those of our loved ones after all."

"And I suppose, to feel alive, one must remember what that feeling is," added the yuke.

"So, to forget and be forgotten, that is true death."

The four caravanners smiled, their bags packed and their weapons keen and shining. Rings of magic glittered on their fingers and food was tucked in their pouches along with amulets and protective accessories. Four together, standing strong, they looked to the distance, resolute and firm.

Mt. Vellenge loomed in the distance, a testament to the forgotten and a challenge for the brave.

"Well, time to die."


End file.
